The Hard Way
by Firetop
Summary: A new Chairman of the Board. And once again Chase runs a foul of him. AUTHORS WARNING: Again some not nice things happen to Chase.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Hard Way

Author: Fire Top

Rating: MA (another little nasty story here)

Summery: PPTH gets a new Chairman of the Board. And once again Chase runs a foul of him.

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Authors note: I know, I know, I haven't finished 'How Do You Deal' yet. I'm sorry. I actually started both these at the same time. And yet again I hurt Chase. This time I get a bit more graphic in regards to what is done to Chase. I hope no one gets offended. If you are I'm sorry and stop reading. Send all comments to Constructive criticism is welcome, flames will be used to melt chocolate.

* * *

It's the same morning meeting as it is everyday. We sit in the conference room waiting for Dr. Gregory House to grace us with his presence and intelligence. Like usual, he's running late.

"Sorry about that. Had to meet the new guy."

"New guy?" Foreman asks.

"Now that Vulger is gone, we needed a new Chairman of the Board. Seems we now got one." House stares at me. "He wants to meet with each of you. We have no cases, so Foreman he's expecting you now."

Foreman nods and leaves the room.

"Don't worry. I don't think he wants to fire anyone." He bites out and walks into his own office.

Again I know that comment was aimed at me and I can't truly blame him. No worries this time House, I'm staying as far away from this new guy as I can. Allison grins at me. I grin back. That comment was aimed at her too. No reason for her to quit if they aren't going to fire anyone.

The two of us get up to go do some other work that we have.

* * *

It isn't till about 2 in the afternoon, that I'm paged to the board room upstairs. This must be it. When I spoke to Foreman about it he said the guy seemed better than Vogler. But in my mind that doesn't mean much. I haven't seen Allison yet so I can't get her opinion. And House, well who the hell knows what that man is thinking.

The door is opened and I walk in. "Dr. Robert Chase?" He has my file opened on his desk.

"Yes sir."

"I'm Fredrick Wimmer. Please have a seat." I close the door behind me and take a chair. "I'm trying to get to know the staff a bit better and I believe that these one on one interviews do it the best." I nod again.

He asks me some questions, why I got into medicine, how I came to the States. Of course he has heard of my father and asks me questions about him too. Offers his condolences when I tell him that he passed away recently. "And what about working with Dr. House. Do you like it?"

Ahh, the question I was waiting for. I'm not doing this like I did the last time. "It's very challenging. It's a wonderful experience."

"And what about Dr. House?"

"He's a brilliant doctor. It's an honor to work for him."

"And your co-workers? Allison Cameron and Eric Foreman?"

"Drs. Cameron and Foreman are also talented. We work well together."

"You seem to be very fond of your co workers."

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

"Well there's a note in your file that you sold out Dr. House to the last Chairman."

"That was a mistake. I should not have done that. I was scared of loosing my job, and just looked out for myself."

"And what you said about your co workers you don't believe anymore?"

"What I said was out of self preservation."

"And now, you aren't worried about your job?"

"I am, but I am not going to do anything that will keep me here at the expense of others. I believe that we are all great doctors and Dr. House is a great teacher as are Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Wilson. It would be a shame if anyone should have to leave." I answer truthfully. I learned that recently. We are a team and we all stick together no matter what.

"What if I told you, you can make sure that no one that you mentioned looses their job?"

The grin on his face is disturbing. "Excuse me?"

"Your friends are important correct?" I nod. "Their jobs are important correct?"

"You want me to quit?" I am unsure as to where this is going.

"No. Meet me here." He scribbles an address on a business card and passes it to me. "Later tonight. Around 9. We can talk about what you can do so you're friends keep their jobs."

"No. I'm not doing anything for you."

"Then first Wilson and Cameron are gone. I think I can then get rid of House. Once he's gone, Cuddy will follow soon after. She's the one who hired him. Then off goes Foreman. We'll keep you on of course."

"I'll quit."

"And when they contact the hospital for information about you, what do you think that we'll say." The grin got wider.

Shit, how do I get myself into these situations? I grab the card and his hand snakes out to grab mine. "I don't have to remind you that this little discussion is just between you and me. If I find out that you squealed, well, I've already told you what I can do." His thumb caresses my hand before he leans back in his chair.

I just get up and get out of the room. I put the card in my trouser pocket and quickly find a bathroom. Once the water is scalding I proceed to wash my hands. I have a bad feeling about this.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all again for the kind words. I hope this meets with all your approvals.

* * *

I show up to the house at the appointed time. It's nine o'clock when I raise my hand to knock on the door. But it opens before I touch the wood. "Robert, please come in." I move slowly in to what appears to be a foyer. "May I take your coat?"

"Uhm, sure." I hope I don't sound as nervous as I feel. He takes it from my hand, again it lingers more than I would have liked.

"Have you eaten, please come in." He leads me through a living room to a dinning room. The décor is nice. Homey. The dark mahogany looks nice against the light green walls. "Please have a seat."

I sit at the table. The food is already laid out and the glasses have wine.

The food smells good and once Wimmer starts eating I figure he isn't going to poison me and I start to eat too.

The conversation is safe. He talks about America and how I think it might differ from Australia. And what's better where. Actually he talks I just answer his questions when he asks them of me.

I still have no idea what I'm doing here. If he's going to try and get dirt on my friends he picked the wrong person. I hedge my answers. I don't want to give him anything that he can use as ammunition.

"Let's go to the study, upstairs. We'll discuss how you can help your friends." I stand up and realize I drank more than I should have. I'm feeling a bit off. He takes my hand to help steady me and leads me up the stairs. He motions to a leather back arm chair. I sit down gratefully the world is still tilting. I rub my face with my hands.

"Perhaps I should leave I'm not feeling too well."

"Sit. Here." Something is put into my hands. I drink from it without thinking. At least it's water. It does taste a little off.

He sits in a chair that's across from me and moves the chess table that's between us to the side. He puts his drink down and puts his elbows on his knees. "Now let's get down to business."

I put my drink down too. Things are starting to clear up in my head.

"You don't want your friends to loose their jobs correct?"

"Yes sir."

"And you don't want to loose your's either."

This time I nod.

"So here is a little proposition for you. You do what I want outside of the hospital and you can all stay."

"Do things for you?" I ask. What in the world is this guy talking about.

"Get on your knees."

"What?" Is this guy mad?

"I said get on your knees boy." He grabs me by my hair and drags me down to the floor where I'm now kneeling between his legs. "When I tell you to move, you move. Got that?"

I have my eyes closed from the pain. I can feel the tears welling up. My face is pushed into skin. The smell is awful. "Suck." I open my eyes. Oh god no. No, no way in hell.

"No." I try and move back but his hand is still in my hair. A slap across the face stuns me a moment. With my mouth open his cock is shoved inside my mouth. I start to choke. "You will do this or your friends have no job." He whispers in my ear. He has both hands in my hair now and is using them to move my mouth up and down his penis.

I try and think of other things, anything but what is happening to me. All the things that have neck pain as a symptom.

I'm at 'G' when I look around. I'm on the floor alone. My head is killing me and my throat hurts. There's a horrible taste in my mouth. A spit on to the floor and wipe my mouth. Semen drips down my chin and on to my shirt. I notice a note on the floor by my head. I pick it up.

_'Go home. Tell no one. And all jobs are safe. I'll let you know when I need you next. - FW'_

I crumple the note up. What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?


	3. Chapter 3

Just a short little chapter here. Just to hold you over for the weekend. Actually to hold you over till I get the next part down. Thanks to all of you who wrote such nice things. Enjoy!

* * *

I don't remember the drive back to my flat. The only thing I know is that I somehow made it there alive. Unfortunately for me that is. Its morning now and I spent the rest of the night on the floor of my bathroom after what looks like I puked up half my insides. I don't have time for a shower, as I'm already running late.

The vibration of my cell in my pocket confirms that fact. "Chase."

"You coming in?" It's Foreman.

"Ate something rotten last night." Not that far from the truth. "Been sick most of the night. I'll be in shortly." I hang up before he can say anything else.

A scrub of the teeth and few swishes of the mouth rinse and some extra deodorant and off too work I go.

If House can get away without shaving for a few days, then I can miss some too.

* * *

I must look as crappy as I feel. I mean even House asked if I was up to working. Sure. As long as I don't have to eat anything or drink anything or have to hear the name Wimmer or see the man I should be fine.

I hide out in the lab. I tell them that this way I can sit someplace and not be bothered, and the aroma of food won't get me nauseous again.

I'm impressed at my ability to lie so well. I don't think that House or Foreman are that gullible. So I must be believable. Cameron even offered to bring me some tea and crackers for my stomach. What a girl.

Even better is that Wimmer can't find me here. Well I guess he can but he doesn't and that's the point. I made it through the whole day without seeing or hearing him. Maybe it was a scare tactic. Wanted to see what it takes to get me to crack.

Not this little Aussie. Tough as a crocodile.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors note: Here's a bit more than last time. Thanks again to all the reviews, they make my day. Also Joseph Nolan and Todd are real radio personalities and they make my morning. Thank you all at WPLJ. No infringment, no money, just wanted to say thanks.

* * *

It's been three days and I still haven't seen or heard Wimmer. I have tomorrow off. Allison invited me over for dinner tomorrow night. She's going to cook. I don't have the heart to tell her that she's an awful cook. She's too nice. I tell her that I'm going out with some friends.

"Just don't drink too much. I don't think you got over the bad food you had the other day. What was it you ate any way?"

"Chinese food. And we're going out. I'll have a salad or something. I'll be fine Cameron." She's not convinced. "I'll call you if I get sick again."

That seems to placate her.

As I make my way to my car I breathe a sigh of relief. I made it.

I choke on that sigh when I pull the paper that's under my wiper blade.

_Robert, same address, 10pm tonight. No excuses, no telling._

The note wasn't signed. It didn't need to be.

My heart starts to pound. I look back at the hospital. This would be a great place for a heart attack.

* * *

Wimmer doesn't answer the door this time. Another man is there dressed in a suit. A big man. Looks like an ex line backer for American football. Is this the butler? He takes my coat, with out a word and waves me ahead of him. Before I can blink something is covering my face. A cloth. I'm trying to breath and fight. The guy has both arms around me and I can't move. It smells sweet and I'm getting really light headed. What the hell is it? Chloroform is my last thought as the world goes dark.

What the hell happened? I have a nasty taste in my mouth and my head feels like it's filled with cotton. I try to move but nothing seems to cooperate. I open my eyes which are still closed, and its still dark. Moving my head from side to side I feel something over my eyes.

As more realization comes to me I realize that I can't move because my hands and legs are tied to something.

"I'm so glad to see you're awake."

I know that voice. No, he wouldn't, would he? This is wrong. This is sick. This isn't going to happen. A hand caressing my chest stops my mind from rambling. "I need to be entertained again."

Looks like I'm wrong again.

* * *

_"And for a look at this Monday morning traffic here's Joseph P. Nolen."_

_"Thanks Todd." _

Monday already. I start to roll over and my body protests. Oh lord. What did I do?

I open my eyes and look around. I'm on my bed, naked. Okay odd. I never sleep nude. Unless there is someone in bed with me.

Slowly I sit up conscious of all the pains that are coursing through my body. Nope I'm alone so there goes that theory.

Maybe a shower would help. Plus I got to get ready for work anyway.

The image in the bathroom mirror stops me cold. What the hell?

There are small burns on my chest. Some bruising along my sides. There are marks around my wrists. I look at my ankles, marks there too.

I step into the shower. The hot water feels wonderful on my body. I start to lather up when the soap over my behind starts to burn.

Unsure as to why I'm doing this I take a towel and run it between my bottom. Crap that hurt.

I look at the towel. Blood. Why the hell would there be blood. Oh shit.

No, no, no, no. That did not happen. No. It didn't. I refuse. It couldn't have. It was just a nightmare. No.

The fact that my hands are shaking and I find myself on the floor of my bathtub should prove to me that it was real and I had been, no, I won't say it. I won't think it.

It doesn't matter. Just have to do what he says. Saves jobs. I won't sell my friends out. Not again. This is my punishment for the Vogler thing. I just have to take it like a man.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi again. So, so far we've been inside Chase's head. It was nice. But now we journey into the mind of someone much more intresting. I hope I did it justice. If I didn't please be nice when you say so. I promise to let you know when I switch POV's again.

* * *

House's POV (be afraid, be very afraid) 

Something's wrong. I can tell. There's this feeling in the back of my mind. A puzzle trying to be solved.

Chase called in sick. Here's the puzzle, Chase never calls in sick. Even when he had the flu a few months ago he showed up.

Going over the past few weeks I try and think about the way that Chase has been acting. He's been jumpier than usual. Holding himself oddly. The silence, the offers to stay over night to work on patients. The offers to work his clinic hours.

It isn't right. Something's wrong.

I push off from my desk and go in search of my partner in crime.

"House. I'm with a patient."

"Dr. Wilson, I need a consult."

"Five minutes."

I sigh extravagantly. "Fine, but if something happens between now and then it'll be on your head."

I'm so good at the guilt. Less than two minutes later the person in his office walks out. I barge right in. "Get your coat." I was smart enough to bring mine.

"Where we going?"

Does he think I'm actually going to tell him the truth? He's known me how long? "Second star to the right and straight on till morning."

He shakes his head at me, but folds none the less. "What if someone needs us?"

Ah, the goody too shoes. "They'll page us, and we call in the beta team to cover."

"Is that what you call them now?"

"You have a better name for the miscreants?"

Jimmy is thankfully quiet as we get into my car. But knowing him it's not going to last long.

"Seriously." Did I not call it? "Where are we heading? Normally you send Foreman to do the B & E."

"Visiting a sick friend."

"You have no friends but me. And you don't do the whole visiting thing."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf." As more images of Chase over the past few weeks run through my mind the more trouble I foresee. No good can come of this.

"Doesn't Chase live near here?" Wilson is looking around now. We've only been driving for about seven minutes. Chase is basically around the corner.

It's what makes him the perfect one to call to run to the hospital to do some test in the middle of the night.

I just nod as I park the car outside of Chase's building. "Let's go."

"House, what's going on?"

"He called in sick."

"So? You going to bother him when he's sick?"

God, Jimmy. You can't be that dumb. "This is Chase we're talking about. Remember the 103 fever and the hallucinations?"

We're waiting for the elevator. Part of me is debating the stairs.

"Maybe he wants a day away from you."

I know, that he knows, that I know that he's reaching on that one. He glances at me and then down at my cane, which I'm taping impatiently on the floor.

The elevator dings before I have to respond.

I start to fish the keys out of my pocket and search for the right one. Again Jimmy looks at me.

"For emergencies." I comment.

Fourth floor the elevator opens. We both walk down the hall, third door on the right. Jimmy knocks as I put the keys in the door.

There's no answer so I turn the key. I don't bother looking at him, I can feel his eyes on me.

The door opens into a living room. No one's around. "Dr. Chase?" I call. If he's really sick he might be asleep in the bedroom.

Wilson follows me as I head to the back. The doors to all the rooms are closed, which I find very odd. Sure, Chase is a bit anal at times but to close all the doors, that doesn't seem like him.

"May-"

"Shh, be very, very quiet. We're hunting wombats." I tell him as I open a door. Seems to be the bathroom. The shower curtain is closed. This is just too bizarre.

"He's not in there." Jimmy moves further down the hall.

"It bothers me." I call out to him as I move into the bathroom. This bathroom curtain is killing me. I move it back. The body there surprises me. "I think you're wrong." I call out again.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry about that cliffhanger. If I didn't stop it there, the chapter would have been too long. So here is the second part. Picks up right where the last one left off. In fact read the last line of the last chapter again and then read this chapter. Also a bit of a slash warning. I didn't plan on this becoming a slash story, but it looks like it might turn that way. I'm sorry if that bothers you, but I felt obligated to warn you. Happy Holidays everyone!

* * *

Wilson comes running back. 

Chase is naked, on his knees in the tub. His hands are up, over his head, tied at the wrist and then tied to the shower rod. "Go get a knife." I tell Wilson who is just standing at the door, staring. Another look at the body and more of the pieces fall into place.

The bruises explain the flinches he makes every time he moves a certain way or when he brushes against something. The reason he doesn't like to be touched.

"You cut. I'll hold him up." Jimmy passes me the knife as he sits on the edge of the tub to hold the body better.

It's good rope that Chase is tied with. It takes me a few minutes to saw through it.

Jimmy easily catches Chase as he slumps. He helps Chase by lowering the body to the floor. "Some of these need stitches." He comments motioning to the criss cross of slash marks across Chase's back.

Some of which are still bleeding. Could account for the unconsciousness.

"Get a blanket, we're taking him with us."

"Back to the hospital?"

"You have a better idea? Pack him a bag too."

This place is obviously not safe for Chase. Plus if I'm going to do some begging the less people around the better.

I pull my phone out as soon as Jimmy disappears. "I need a favor."

I wince at her harsh laugh. "Not for me. I'm bringing in a patient. Meet us at the back door. No nurses. Also I need a private room, one that no one knows about."

"What is this some sort of witness protection program?"

"Just do it. I'll owe you." I wince as those words leave my mouth. I suddenly have an image of Cuddy standing there, wringing her hands and drooling.

"Fine. When will you get here?"

"About 10 minutes. Again, no nurses, just you." I hang up before she can question me further.

"Chase?" I call, trying for a response. There is none. What the hell happened here?

"Here." Jimmy's back with a blanket. Looks like a quilt from Chase's bed.

"Cuddy's waiting for us at the back entrance. Can you carry him?"

"What did you have to promise her?"

"My soul." Once again I'm jealous as Wilson easily wraps Chase in a blanket and hoists him over his shoulder.

"Has he been eating?" He asks as I grab the bag he brought too.

"I'm not his keeper."

"He weighs nothing." Well that was obvious from the ribs we saw before.

Wilson sits in the back with Chase as I drive. "How is he?" Okay, so I worry.

"Pulse is weak but steady. Breathing is a bit shallow. And there's a fever."

"One of those slashes can be infected."

Neither one of us talks as we make our way to the back entrance of the hospital. Cuddy is standing outside. "House?" She looks at me.

Wilson gets out of the car and carries his bundle with him. I get out and lock the car. Its fine back here and I can move it later if need be.

Cuddy pulls the blanket away from the face. "Didn't he call in sick?"

"Yeah, but I knew he was lying."

Cuddy leads us to a small rarely used room. The only reason I know of this room is because I hide in here often. Guess I need a new place to duck clinic duty. I go for the gloves while Wilson moves him to the bed. Cuddy puts the gurney out in the hallway.

"I need suture kits." I tell her.

I hear her gasp when she comes back into the room. We've laid him face down on the bed. "Sew him then dress him." I explain.

Wilson and I each take a kit.

"Page me if you need anything." And Cuddy disappears.

The two of us work in silence.

Someone has abused my wombat. And abused him badly. No one but me can do that. I don't even let the other ducklings hurt him too much. And that's only verbally.

Besides his back and the fact that his ribs are showing, there are assorted bruises covering his legs and arms. There are rope burns around his wrist and ankles. I move his hair and I see some faint marks around his neck. There are also welts across his ass.

I finish the cut I'm working on and move to take a closer look. There is more redness around his ass crack. No. Not Chase. Taking his virginity has always been my dream.

I turn and start looking through the cabinets.

"House?"

"Rape kit." I answer his unspoken question. Thank god, Wilson keeps his mouth closed.

The two of us finish working in silence and I think that, that's best for now.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Warning, Chase gets raped in this chapter. It's not terribly graphic, but I want to warn you that this chapter and the next one are pretty nasty. If you don't want to read it, let me know, and I'll summerize for you what you miss. Thanks again for reading. And sorry for the cliffhanger at the end.

* * *

**Chase's POV**

Realization comes back as I feel something sooth the fire on my back. The pain is gone but I can still feel hands on me.

As long as there is no pain I could care less.

Even behind my closed eyes I can tell that I'm some place bright. A little too bright.

At least there is no smell of sex or blood here. It smells clean, sterile, hospital like.

Must have been pretty bad off if I was brought to a hospital. I know no one would come looking for me so I guess Wimmer decided that I needed help.

"House?" I know that name and that voice.

There is no way Wimmer would allow House to work on me. That means that House or Wilson found me like this. Great. Now they know. And now the whole hospital will know.

No, wait. I don't have to tell them. I was mugged, or attacked. Where was I?

The last place I remember was Wimmer coming to my place.

Then someone broke into my flat. That can work. I'll throw my wallet down a sewer when I get out of here. Say I was robbed or something. That'll work.

Don't remember what the guy looked like. Don't want to press charges. Just want to put it behind me.

They'll believe that. I'll cry a little and let Allison baby me. That can work. Cover everything up.

"Rape kit."

No. They'd find the DNA. They'll know it's him. And then he'll get angry. They'll loose their jobs. I can't do that to them. No.

Wait. I'm dating him. Yeah, I asked for it. House will believe that, especially after he found out about the dominatrix. I like to be beat up. I'm gay. I can live with the condescending looks. The jokes and snickers behind my back. I'll deal. It's okay.

Its funny, but having House swab my anus and mouth doesn't bother me. The hands checking my testicles don't freak me out. Have I been desensitized to touch now? Or is it that because I know that these two wouldn't harm me physically that I have nothing to worry about?

It actually takes more energy then I care to use at the moment to contemplate it. A nap seems good. I don't have to be here for what ever else they plan to do with my body.

Its not like it's mine anymore. It belongs to Wimmer.

* * *

The hand grabbing and yanking my hair brings me back to consciousness.

"How did you get here?" He breathes heavily in my ear.

"I don't know. I think that Dr. House and Dr. Wilson found me." I try to keep the fear out of my voice.

"Did you call them? What did I tell you about calling for help?" He drags me off the bed and on to the floor.

"I didn't." I can't help the whine. He pulls me to my feet by my hair. Jerking my head back. "I told you House wouldn't believe that I was sick."

The backhand spins me and somehow I'm on my stomach on the bed.

The one thing I never liked about hospital gowns is the fact that your ass always hangs out the back of them. Wimmer takes advantage of this as he shoves one of his fingers up my ass.

I don't bother to fight him. He has the right. I don't know if they are safe anymore. Maybe the more compliant I am the more forgiving he will be. I can't let him get rid of them.

The zipper in the background is my clue to close my eyes and go away. I know what he's going to do. Zoning out always helps. He doesn't waste anytime in pushing into me. The pounding is the same as always, nothing new.

The opening door, gasp, and click of the gun are new though. It makes me open my eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for waiting!

* * *

**Wilson's POV**

It's been about 3 hours since I last checked on Chase. I figure it's a good time. He should be about done with the IV that was started when we brought him in.

Greg is still downstairs, harassing the lab people for the results of Chase's blood work and the rape kit. I told him I'd stay close by in case I'm needed up here.

I grab a new IV bag to hang for Chase before I head into his room. I wonder if he's awake yet.

What the hell?

Before I can register what I'm seeing and react a voice makes the decision for me. "Please, Dr. Wilson, come in quietly or the boy will get it."

Chase is bent over the hospital bed, with the gown pulled up. Wimmer was behind him, up close and personal. Looks like I can tell House who raped Chase before the lab does.

The gun to Chase's head though has me worried.

"Have a seat." I listen. More afraid for Chase's life if I don't. "Let me explain a bit as to what's going on. Dr. Chase here was nice enough to help me out with some things in exchange for the safety of some jobs." At that, Wimmer thrusts his waist into Chase. I watch as Chase winces. "If you just sit there quietly and let me finish my business with Dr. Chase, no one will get hurt."

I try to look anywhere but what's happening on the hospital bed, but I can't. I settle on looking at Chase's face.

The one thing about Chase that you can always count on, is what ever he's feeling it will show in his eyes. At this point, I can't tell if it shame, disgust, hatred, or pain. What ever it is I try and convey to him that it will be alright. That some how we'll get him though this.

Greg is going to have a shit fit though. He's protective over all his fellows but with Chase it's a bit more. Probably has to do with the crush more than anything else. Although there was something about Chase that made you want to protect him. Like the puppy whose abused and needs to be rescued.

But Greg's infatuated with Chase. It wasn't just lust over the body there was something there that Greg found a connection too. They had gotten drunk one night after Foreman had started, and the discussion had led to what each of them thought of all of Greg's fellows over the course of the years. And there had been quite a few.

Most had not been able to stay for longer than a few months. But the latest batch had been here the longest. Chase so far holding the record. When questioned about it, Greg had made a comment that Chase had the best ass and that he kept him around so that he could continue to look at it.

I had, of course, picked Cameron. I've always liked brunettes. Greg had agrees a bit in regards to Cameron, but there was something to Chase that held him captive.

The satisfied grunt breaks me from my musing.

The gun is still pressed against Chase's forehead. It must be pushed there tight by the wince on Chase's face.

I glance at Wimmer who is using his free hand to tuck himself back into his pants. Once done he smacks Chase, hard, by the sound, on the ass. He then pulls Chase up by his hair.

He looks to be in pain now.

"Dr. Chase and I are going to be heading out for a bit." Hand still in Chase's hair he opens the door and backs out of the room.

I get up to follow at a slower pace. I can't leave him alone. I promised to help him and I can't do that if I'm sitting in here.

By the time I get out into the hallway Wimmer has made his way half way to the entrance of the hospital. The hallway is now filled with people who have stopped in their tracks at the sight before them.

The guard by the door has his gun out and it's trained on Wimmer. He can't shoot because of the gun to Chase's head. "Let him go." The guard demands.

"Let me out and I'll give you the doc back."

"Put the gun down and let him go." The guard's voice shakes as does the gun in his hand.

At the sound of gun fire I grab the nearest person and dive behind a pillar, taking them with me.

When the gun fire stops I quickly apologize to the nurse I pulled down with me and run over to where I see people on the ground bleeding and crying. "Can I get some help over here?" I call out.

The first person I come to is an orderly. He has graze on his right arm. He waves me off, sitting up slowly as a nurse comes over.

People are running around, mostly doctors from the hospital trying to sort things out. I'm looking for something blond.

I see him not far from the entrance, bleeding. Not far from the security guard that is on the floor bleeding. I check the pulse of the guard first. The blood is pooling from a gun shot in the head. Just as I thought, dead.

With little remorse I turn and check out Chase's pulse. He's on his stomach. I'm happy to see the blood on him is from pulled stitches on his back. "Let's turn him."

I look up at the familiar, female voice and see Lisa beside me. "Where's House?" He's going to want to be here. "And Foreman and Cameron?"

We turn him onto his back and both notice the pool of blood coming from his left side. "Foreman and Cameron are helping organize, House I think is still downstairs."

It's easier for us to just pull up Chase's gown than to worry about his modesty at this point. "Entrance and exit wounds." I comment before moving the gown back down.

"We need a gurney." Lisa calls. She seems to pause after looking at his legs. "You got him?"

I nod, taking off my lab coat and using it to try and stem the flow of blood from Chase's body. "Come on Chase. Hang in there." I try and coax Chase to keep living. While he's bleeding badly he's still breathing.

"Dr. Wilson?" An orderly taps my shoulder. Mark is his name. He's there with another orderly and a nurse.

"Help me get him on the bed. I need to see what that bullet hit." I also look at his legs, wondering what had caught Lisa's attention before. There are white lines running down the inside of his legs. She must know what happened now.


	9. Chapter 9

Just something short and sweet and cliffhanger like to hold you over till tomorrow!

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**Chase's POV**

I'm conscious as to all that's happening around me. I hear Wilson and Cuddy talking over me. I know that they need to check me over but that doesn't mean I enjoy the fact I'm lying naked in the hospital I work in.

I have a new pain to add to my list of complaints. The one in my side is powerful enough to get rid of the burning on my back and in my ass.

If I had to guess I would say that the bullet hadn't hit anything major. It just hurt like hell. Part of me wishes that I was hit someplace else or that the damage is worse than I think it is.

I remember being pulled out of that room with Wilson looking at me. I wish he would have stopped doing that. I know that he was trying to help, but it made it worse. He knew all about what was going on. That I asked for it.

I'm glad that it's not Cameron or Foreman hovering over me at the moment. It's bad enough that Wilson and Cuddy know what happened. Even worse is that Wilson is going to tell House.

I try not to cry out as I'm lifted onto a gurney and wheeled away. I feel a stick in my arm. I wonder if I can resign.

* * *

Warm, soft, floating, calm, safe, happy, painless.

* * *

Nothing is how I expect it. There is no antiseptic smell to the air. There is no beep of monitors in the background. The bed isn't uncomfortable and small. The sheets aren't scratchy. My legs don't feel naked in the gown. It actually doesn't feel like I'm wearing a hospital gown. 

I slowly open my eyes, waiting for the glaring of the hospital lights to blind me.

Shockingly there are none. The lights are quiet low. I'm not in a hospital room. It's a bedroom. The bed has cotton sheets, I decide as I run my hands over them. And the bed is queen sized. I seem to be dressed in a pair of sweat pants that are too big and a sweat shirt. It's actually quite comfortable.

Could this have all just been a dream? A nightmare? Did any of this actually happen? Could I have just imagined all that had happened? Had the past two months been just my mind working over time?

I move to get up and the sharp pain in my side is actually comforting in the fact that I didn't imagine all of this. I don't know what that's comforting, it just is.

Laying back down I look around the room. It's not mine. The clothing isn't mine either.

If I'm not in a hospital and I'm not home where the hell am I?


	10. Chapter 10

Just as promised. In peoples inboxes by the afternoon. Enjoy!

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**House's POV**

I grab for the ringing phone with out checking the caller ID. I don't need it waking up Chase. "Yeah?"

"Is he awake?"

It's Jimmy. "Not yet. I'm waiting for the food to warm up, then I'll wake him. Any word yet?"

"No. I'm at his place. Anything I should pick up?"

"What do you think?" I hate when people ask stupid questions.

"I got it. Go check on him. I'm sure he's probably a bit confused." And Jimmy hangs up as the microwave beeps.

I put a spoon in the bowl and carefully carry it into my bedroom. Chase is awake and is looking around, trying to figure out where he is.

"Chase?" I don't want to scare him, he's been through enough lately.

He jumps and winces in pain anyway. Scared little wombat. "Easy, I brought you something to eat."

"Thanks." I can tell he's uncomfortable.

"In pain?" Pain I can deal with.

"Not really." The boy can't lie to save his life. "Where am I?"

"Eat." I hand him the bowl. "Soup from the deli by the hospital." He smiles at me and takes a spoonful of the broth. I shake my head. I don't understand. Chase is a vegetarian except for the matzo ball soup from the kosher deli by the hospital. When we told him that it had chicken broth he shrugged and continued eating. He won't eat any other soup with a meat base or any other meat for that matter, but the soup. I can't really blame him, the deli makes a great ruben sandwich.

"My place." I answer, keeping my eyes on him. Unsure as to how he'll react. He freezes I take the bowl out of his hands before it falls. He's in my bed, I don't need a soup stain. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Cuddy and Wilson. Turned me on my back. Looked at the bullet wound."

"You were lucky. It didn't hit anything. Just in and out on your left side. Rest is the best thing."

"How long?"

I can't tell if he's asking how long he's been out, how long he's been here, how long he has to rest for, or how long until he can leave. I'm going to go for the first one. "A few hours. You passed out by the time I got upstairs. Wilson already had you back in a room. We packed the wound. And brought you here with Cuddy's blessing."

"Why?"

Again with the ambiguous questions. "By packing it we can make sure it heals properly and we can have a closer eye on infections. Some of the cuts on your back are infected."

"Oh."

Damn it Chase. Give me something to work with here. If I have to talk to you, you have to give me something. It's like diagnosing. I can't guess at the problem unless you tell me all the symptoms. "You want more soup?"

"No, thank you."

He had like three spoonfuls. He's going to need to eat more if he ever wants to get out of here.

"Why don't you rest more. Wilson is on his way over. I'll leave the bowl on the table." I get up and leave the room quickly. I don't know what's going on in his head and I'm not sure I want to know at this moment. Wilson is better at this touchy feely crap that I am.


	11. Chapter 11

I know this ones short so Chapter 12 is right behind it. Thanks for reading.

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**Chase's POV**

I thought that he would never leave. Okay, so I'm at House's place. In his bed probably. Is that for a reason? He knows what happened. Did Wilson tell him what happened in that room? Does he know that? Or is that what Wilson is coming over to tell him? That I'm easy. That if they want they can all have a go at me.

Especially now. I'm weak as a kitten. I can barely keep my eyes open as it is. I got tired holding that bowl of soup. I'm not going to be able to fight back. They don't even have to tie me up like Wimmer did. They just have to threaten my job and I'll do anything.

House especially. Does he think I'm that stupid? I know he wants to get into my pants. I know the way he looks at my ass. Doesn't really bother me. People have looked at my ass for as long as I can remember. He probably had a great time doing that rape kit.

I shift to try and get more comfortable. That was a bad idea. I slowly lower myself back against the pillows and close my eyes. Maybe this is all some drug hallucination. When I wake maybe none of this ever happened.

The hand on my shoulder shaking me awake is kinda nice. "Chase. Wake up. You need you're meds and we need to check the dressings."

"Huh?" I wake up to see Wilson looking straight at me.

"How you doing?"

"I'm not sure." That's the truth. I'm kinda numb at the moment. I'm also still kinda woozy. I think my blood sugar might be a bit low. I'm trying to listen to what Wilson is saying. He's holding up a needle.

I shake my head to clear it. And there is a cup in front of me. "Drink." House says. I look at my hand which is shaking for some reason. He doesn't let go, and helps guide it to my lips. He allows me to control the cup in order to drink it. Apple juice. I drink about a half the cup before I need to lay back against the pillows. They give me a few minutes before they help me sit back up and the cup is at my lips again. "You got to finish this. It'll help." That's Wilson.

I do what they say. I can't fight them. They lay me back against the pillows and pull down the covers. I close my eyes, hopefully the room will stop spinning.

The hand at the waist band of the sweat pants and the something cold running over my bare hip makes me move and open my eyes.

"Easy Chase. Antibiotic and pain meds." Wilson holds the needle up for a moment before pushing it into my hip. I groan. "We're going to let that work for a bit and then make sure everything is okay. Stay with us." I try and nod. "Do you remember where you are?" Someone's fingers are on my neck.

"Bed."

"Do you know whose?"

"House's."

"Do you know why?"

"Shot." Think I'll just zone out again. My head hurts.


	12. Chapter 12

I posted two chapters today for two reasons. One the last one was pretty short. Two I'll be away from a computer for a few days, vacation, and I didn't want to leave you hanging too much :-) So enjoy, let me come home to lots of reviews. Have a great weekend!

**

* * *

Wilson's POV**

I'm worried. He seems more out of it than I thought he would. Then again with the weight loss and blood loss he should probably be in the hospital somewhere.

But I understand House's thoughts against it. Hell I agree. There really is no safe place for Chase at the moment except probably here. I even had an armed guard when I went to pick stuff up at his apartment.

Until Wimmer is caught Chase is not going to be left alone anyplace.

At least he can answer questions and seems to be coherent enough to remember what happened.

"Chase, we're going to roll you on to your right side and lean you against a pillow. We're going to look at the bullet wound and the marks on your back." There is no answer. I look over at House.

"Asleep."

"It might be best for now." I nod. I should have brought an IV bag with me. Get some more fluids into him.

"After we're done, I'll wake him back up and feed him again." It's scary how Greg can read my mind at times. Another glance at Chase's rib cage and I realize that feeding Chase would help him recover too. Actually part of the reason he's probably so exhausted is because of the lack of food.

His body must know that it's safe at the moment. I just hope his mind can figure that out too.

We check his body out silently. I let Greg take the lead here. I know that this bothers him more than he is letting on. I know that this has to do with his feelings for Chase too. There is nothing that I can say that will help him. Greg knows that Chase's body will heal. The gunshot wound will heal as will most of the scars.

But if I know Greg, it's the psychological scars that he's more worried about. I know it's the one I'm more worried about. Hell I think I have scars on my own. I still can't believe that I sat in that room, watching that bastard rape Chase.

And he had the nerve to say that Chase was doing us a favor. That he offered to do this to save our jobs. Would Chase actually ask for this? Did it have to do with some sort of payback? Did he think that he had to save our jobs to make up for what happened with Vogler?

I wish I could get that image out of my head. Chase just lying across that table, not fighting back. That wasn't Chase. The look in his eyes told me that he didn't want it. That he wanted to be any where but in that room. What type of person would ask for that?

And the marks? Would Chase ask to be whipped? Beat? Burned? No. Not Chase. That wasn't Chase.

I can't anymore. I need to get out of here. Away from him. Until I know more, I don't need my mind to run in anymore circles. "Do you need me?" I ask Greg who is also sitting there staring at Chase's body.

"You okay?" I hate that he knows me too well.

"I want to get back to the hospital. Cameron and Foreman are probably still there and they've paged Chase for the past few hours looking for him." I take Chase's pager, phone, and wallet out of my pocket and leave it on a night table. "I should let them know that he's safe but not taking visitors at the moment. I'm not going to tell them anything that I won't tell the police."

Greg just nods and I leave. Facing Foreman and Cameron are going to be tough. I'm sure he's happier to have me do it then him having too.


	13. Chapter 13

Back from vacation and ready for more writing. Thanks to everyone who left a review for me to read. Updating will be a little slower as I go back to work on Monday. Thanks again!

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**House's POV**

I didn't expect much from Chase during the past few days, but now I'm starting to worry. I don't know how much of it's physical and how much is emotional. Physical I can deal with. It's the emotional I don't know about.

The slash marks on his back have mostly faded to white lines. The stitches would be removed in a day or two. The gun shot wound was also healing nicely but slowly. Another three weeks or so and Chase would be as good as new.

But he was still weak. Chase spends most of his time in bed. And needs help to get to the bathroom and back. Part of me wishes that he was in the hospital so that I could monitor him better and run more tests.

But until Wimmer is caught I'm not letting Chase out of this apartment or leaving him alone. The only person I trust him with is Wilson.

We've both discussed in depth, what happened and what's happening to my wombat. Wilson wants to blame my feelings for Chase, as the reasons why I'm letting him stay. I don't have the guts to tell him he's right.

"Chase, you got to wake up." It's sad when you have to force feed a 27 year old. He shouldn't be sleeping this much. Unless there's internal bleeding somewhere. Or there's something psychological. There's can't be internal bleeding, I would see it come out of some orifice if there was. That meant it had to be psychological.

"Huh?" He's never coherent when he first wakes up.

"Lunch." He just nods. "Chase, you have to eat. You have a sandwich and some juice."

"Okay." He moves himself to sit up. He winces in pain and I can't help but wince with him. I know his side is still sore. He grabs the sandwich and takes a bite. He chews and swallows slowly, almost in a daze. It's so aggravating that I'm almost willing to talk to see what's wrong.

Thank god for the ringing phone. "House."

"They got him. He's gone."

Huh? "Who?" I walk out of the bed room. I don't know where this conversation might go.

"Wimmer. The police cornered him. There was a shoot out. He's dead." I can picture Wilson jumping up and down.

"Where are you?"

"Hospital. Cuddy just told me. She wants to know if you want to bring him back here."

"I don't know, yet. Let me tell him first and we'll play it by ear."

"Do you need me over there?"

Do I want him over here? Yes. Do I need him? Probably not. I think that I need to do this on my own. "No. I think I got it."

"Call me if you need anything."

I close my cell phone and take a deep breath. I have to tell him, he needs to know. But what kind of reaction is he going to have. There has been no reaction to anything since he woke up. Hasn't even asked why he's here, or why he's in my bed.

Unless he wants to be in my bed.

"Chase?" I walk in. He's gotten through about a quarter of the sandwich. "That was Wilson." I move the plate from his lap. "They found Wimmer. There was a shoot out. He's dead."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**: We are winding down. There is just the epilogue after this. Thank you all for the read and the reviews. Hopefully there won't be a long wait before I get something new out to you. I also take requests. Can't promise to do them justice, but I'm always looking for insperation

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**Chase's POV**

"Chase?" House comes back in to the room. I hope he doesn't start with me about the sandwich. I ate all that I wanted. I haven't been hungry, I don't know what the deal is.

"That was Wilson." He takes the plate from my lap. So it was Wilson, I normally don't get all excited over the fact that he calls. Actually I try and keep my distance when it comes to Wilson.

"They found Wimmer." I don't hear anything else that House says. They found him. He's going to tell them everything. Maybe I can still get out of this. Get away. Go back to Australia. Seminary is sounding quite nice again.

I push the blankets back and move to the edge of the bed. "Whoa. Where do you think you're going?" House puts his hand on my shoulder to keep me in the bed.

I'm actually quiet thankful. It helps steady the world that's spinning around me. "Away. Back home. Before anything else happens."

"You're not going anyplace yet. You can barely sit up."

"Need to leave. Need to start new. Before he can tell what happened." I try to stand up. House's hand keeps me on the bed.

"Did you hear anything that I said?" He tilts my chin up. Wow, those are damn blue eyes. "He's dead. He isn't going to tell what happened."

"But they are going to know. I need to get out of here." They can't know. I'm going to loose my job. I don't know how much Wilson told House or Cuddy. Did they know? Does Cameron or Foreman know? Does the whole hospital?

"Chase, you have to breathe. Come, lay back down." He maneuvers my body to lean against the pillows. "It's going to be okay. No one has to know. I promise. Breathe and I'll tell you what's going on."

I close my eyes and try and catch my breath. House hands me a cup and I take a drink. The juice feels good on my throat. What does he mean, tell me what's going on? Is there something that I don't know? What did Wilson tell him? What did the tests show?

"You ready?" I nod. "What was the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"

"I was shot. Wimmer, held me hostage. Put a gun to my head. Wilson was there." House nods. "I don't know how I got to the hospital."

"You called in sick. I didn't believe you."

"You found me?" I can't believe that House would go to my place. That he would bring me back. That he would treat me. That he would care.

"You were tied up in your bathtub. Unconscious. I brought Wilson with me. We brought you back to the hospital. The only one who knew was Cuddy."

"Foreman? Cameron?"

"Didn't even know you were there till the shooting."

"I was in a hospital gown."

"You were sick, bad case of the flu. You came in for treatment. Afraid of being dehydrated."

I look up at House at that comment. I'm confused.

"The police got reports from other people that you had called in sick. And we needed a reason as to why you were in the hospital. The flu was the easiest. Cuddy came up with all the paper work. I was treating you as a favor. You are still contagious, and I am now too, that's why I haven't been at work either. Also keeps the police from you for the moment."

I don't know what has me in shock more. That Cuddy and House both know what Wilson saw, or the lengths that they are going to keep it quiet. "Why?"

"Why what?"

How come House always has to make it so hard. "Why are you doing this? Why are you protecting me?"

"Wilson told me what Wimmer said. That you were doing this to protect us. Think of is as an even exchange."

I can't work for them anymore. I'm done. I've been thinking about this since all this started. And being he can't do anything to hurt me I'm free to do this. "Then I'd like to tender my resignation affective immediately."

"I'm sorry I can't accept that."

"Bull shit." Like hell he can't. I don't want to work here anymore. It's time to go back home.

"You aren't going to run away. There is no reason. There are only three people left on this earth who know the truth as to what happened. And we aren't going to tell anyone."

"I can't stay. I don't want to." I'm scared. I know he's gone but will I be able to ever go back to my place, knowing what happened there? Can I walk into work knowing what he did to me there?

"You're scared."

I hate that he knows me that well. I nod.

"You have every right. But listen. Cuddy, Wilson and even me, will be there. You aren't ready to come back to work yet. So you still have a few more days to think about it. And you can't be left alone yet. You're too weak to be by yourself, so you'll be here for a few more days. When you're ready, you'll be ready. Any questions?"

"What did you do with the rape kit?" I need to know. There are still so many questions that I need answers to.

"Destroyed. The paperwork and everything associated with it has been destroyed. You knew about it?"

"I was awake. I knew that it was Wilson and you working on me. Thank you by the way." I really am thankful. "What do Cameron and Foreman know?"

"That you have the flu and were taken hostage and shot by Wimmer."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"He killed the guard and a nurse. There were two others that were shot besides you. All superficial." Two more people were killed because of me. I really made a mess of things this time.

"Can I ask you something?" I nod. It's the least that I owe him. "Why did you do it?"

"He threatened you. All of you. Get rid of you, Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman, and Cameron. I couldn't let that happen again. I got Wilson fired last time. I didn't want to do it again."

"You could have come to us and told us or quit."

"Said if I quit he would make sure that no hospital would hire me."

"Chase, Robert, they don't call the board of directors when they look for recommendations on doctors. They would call me, Cuddy, maybe you're co-workers. But they would have never contacted Wimmer."

"Why am I in your bed?" This has been bothering me since I woke up.

"Cause I don't have another bed and you're too injured to sleep on my couch."

"And you've been sleeping here too." I thought that there was something next to me at night. But most of the time I'm too out of it to care or think much of it.

"I can't sleep on my couch. I'm too tall." Hmm, that makes sense, sort of. It's also probably painful for his leg. "Does it bother you?"

I think for a moment or two. Does the thought of sharing my boss's bed bother me? Does it bother me that my boss is male? I know my sexual orientation and I'm quite comfortable with being bi. "No, it doesn't."

"So, we'll keep the sleeping arrangements for the moment?"

I nod. "Good, now finish your sandwich and take some more pain killers. Wilson is going to come over later and we'll talk more." I don't think that House wants to change the sleeping arrangements either.


	15. Chapter 15

Authors notes at the end!

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**Chase's POV**

Unconsciously I grab my left side as I stand outside the doors to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. It's been about a month since I was last here. I go to open the door and I notice where my hand is.

Greg says that I do that when I'm nervous. I did it the first time Cuddy came over. The same thing with Cameron and Foreman. I guess I can admit that I'm nervous going back to work.

It took me longer than I thought to recover. Seems that while I was being assaulted, I didn't take good care of my body. I knew that I wasn't eating but the thought of eating turned my stomach. Sleeping also wasn't a big priority at the time.

I figure that my body knew that it could stop fighting and rest once Greg got a hold of me. Because my body was so weak to begin with it took it a long time to heal and deal with the gun shot.

Emotional took just as long as physical.

Took a while to get used to more than one person in the room with me. James helped a lot with that. As did Cuddy. Seems James also informed her what Wimmer said in that room. She also came to thank me. Promised that once my fellowship was done I had a permanent position in the ICU. Greg said that it meant that I could be at his beck and call in the hospital and that he expected to get preferential treatment for his cases.

As I walk through the doors I see Greg and James standing by the elevators. Greg is watching me, almost daring me to keep moving. He's a great motivator.

I know that I couldn't have gotten through this without him. I owe him big on this one. He knows and understands the kind of trauma the mind goes through when the body survives something horrible. He understands the mind games.

He told me how Stacy played mind games all the time to get him to do things. How she manipulated him and Cuddy, once he was put in a coma with his leg.

James shared what it was like going through divorces and the mind games that his ex wives played with him.

I owe both of them big. They are the ones who went to my apartment and cleaned it out. They are the ones who go to collect my mail every few days.

I walk over to where the two men are waiting for me. "Glad to see you back." James comments.

"Thanks." I offer quietly. I'm still not too comfortable out here.

"I'll catch up with you for lunch." He tells me and walks away. I know that James is still not too happy over the amount of weight I lost before. His new goal is to make sure I eat three times a day. In order to do this he makes sure that he's around every time I eat. He's given the task of breakfast over to Greg. But lunch and dinner are still his.

"Did you lock up?" Greg asks once we're in the elevator.

"I even made the bed." I tell him. Besides allowing me to continue staying at his place, Greg even allows me to continue to share his bed.

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Authors Note: Well that's the end. Sorry you had to wait so long, I wanted to post this on Friday. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I apologize for turning this into slash, that wasn't the original idea, but sometimes these things happen. I promise to have some more work out soon. Thanks again for reading! 


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